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Reindeer
by Edward Carson
From his pantry, Mr. Carson heard the commotion at the coal yard door and was annoyed. What could be going on that he could hear them this far away?! Why wasn't Mrs. Patmore controlling those kitchen maids? Why wasn't Mrs. Carson keeping her maids in check? Well, he could at least do something about the footmen! He got to his feet and stormed into the passage, which was unusually chilly.
Yes, there they all were, and Mrs. Patmore, Mrs. Carson, and even Mr. Bates were among them, standing at the coal yard door which was wide open, despite the fact that this was December and a freezing December at that.
"What is going on here?" he demanded in that stentorian voice that usually made all of downstairs tremble.
But they all carried on as though he wasn't there.
"What's it doing in the yard?"
"It must have wandered in and the wind blew the gate shut behind it."
"But what are we going to do about it?"
"I know what I'd do, if I could," Mrs. Patmore's voice rose above the others. "I'd get a shotgun. That's fresh venison on the hoof, that is. We could have a great winter feast."
"We're about to have a great winter feast," Mrs. Carson said, with a little exasperation. "It's called Christmas. And we celebrate it with turkey and roast beef, not venison."
Mr. Carson worked his way through them to the open door and then stopped short as his eyes settled on the creature that held them all spellbound.
"That's not a deer," he said. "It's a reindeer."
"Reindeer?" Daisy wasn't the only one who looked bewildered. "What's a reindeer doing in Yorkshire?"
"I thought they were extinct in England," Anna said, frowning a little.
"I didn't know England ever had reindeer," Mr. Bates said, reacting to his wife's words.
"Anna is correct," Mr. Carson informed them, recovering from his surprise. "England has no wild reindeer. This one has escaped captivity. This one is likely part of the novelty act of that Norwegian hired for the celebrations at Bolton Abbey."
"The Duke of Devonshire hired some reindeer?" Mr. Bates was surprised.
"A Father Christmas spectacle," Mr. Carson said. "It was in the papers. It's for the children. See? It's got a collar round its neck."
"Fancy you being up on the entertainment news in the district," Mr. Barrow said, drawing an irritated look from the butler.
"Bolton Abbey is forty miles from here, Mr. Carson," said Mrs. Carson. "That's a fair distance for the animal to have travelled."
"They're hardy beasts," he replied.
"Aren't they," Mrs. Patmore mused. "There's some say they traverse the globe in a single night in December!" She laughed at her own joke.
"But what are we going to do about it?" Miss Baxter asked, in that tremulous voice she had. "If it's a domestic animal, we can't just open the gate and let it wander away."
"The Duke would not thank us for that," Mrs. Carson agreed.
Mr. Carson sighed. They might all stand around in wonder, but the responsibility for action fell to him. Heavy the head that wears the crown. He turned to his footman. "Andrew, run to the stable and have the groom come with a length of rope."
Andy hesitated.
"Use the other door," Mr. Carson advised him, slightly exasperated.
Relieved, Andy dashed off.
"He is magnificent," Mr. Bates remarked, and the animal, as though he had heard this, raised his majestic head from the ground where he had been grubbing for something to eat, and gave them a clear view of the mature set of antlers he carried.
A muted grunt of awe rose simultaneously from the lot of them. He was magnificent.
"There's no need for us all to be standing here in the open door," Mr. Carson said firmly, always a wet blanket. "I'm sure you all have work to do." But no one moved and such was the nature of the situation that he forebore insisting.
Andy returned promptly, but he came alone, though he carried the rope which Mr. Carson had requested.
"And where is Mr. Lynch?" Mr. Carson demanded.
"He says he manages horses, Mr. Carson, not reindeer. And," Andy hesitated, "he wished you luck."
"Blast the man!" Mr. Carson fumed. "The animal is as tame as any horse. Any capable man could manage it." His furious gaze swung around the circle.
"I'm from Manchester," Mr. Barrow said quickly. "I don't know a thing about horses. Or reindeer." Being well acquainted with Mr. Carson's temper, Barrow managed to smother his grin.
"I'm from London," Andy said hastily, as though the greater the size of the metropolis the less likely one was to be competent in managing such matters. Apparently he had quickly forgotten his desire to become a Yorkshire farmer.
"I could not manage it, Mr. Carson," Mr. Bates said. Mr. Bates never used his infirmity as an excuse for anything, determined not to be pitied, but it seemed he made an exception in this instance. A smile played about his lips.
"Alas! I am a mere woman and am too frail for such a task!" Mrs. Patmore declared, in mock sorrow. She didn't bother to hide her grin at all.
"Perhaps we should let them know upstairs," Mrs. Carson said sensibly, glancing scornfully at those assembled. "Perhaps His Lordship…."
"What about you, Mr. Carson?" Barrow said suddenly, as though it had just come to him. "You're an old hand with horses, from your boyhood like."
The malevolence of the glare that the butler levelled at the younger man would have obliterated a less resilient man. Mr. Carson was the son and the grandson of a groom, but he had chosen domestic service that he might never have to handle a horse again. Still, who else was there?
"Give me that," he snapped at Andy, reaching for the rope. "Mrs. Patmore," he said abruptly, startling that good woman. For a moment she looked alarmed, as though he were going to press her into service.
"I need some carrots and sugar cubes. And," his gaze swept the onlookers, "an assistant."
"You're not going to tackle the beast," Mrs. Carson said emphatically, now alarmed for her husband.
He glanced her way. "It's a domesticated animal."
"But those antlers," Mrs. Carson murmured, a shade apprehensively.
"I'll help." Anna stepped forward, drawing a few admiring gazes and one of uneasiness from her husband, though he did not speak. "You want me to distract him with food while you get the rope about his neck," she surmised.
"I do."
"I'll get my coat."
Mr. Carson tied a small loop at the end of the rope and then arranged the coil in his hands while Mrs. Patmore collected the food. Anna put the napkin of sugar cubes in her pocket and gathered up the carrots.
"Right," Mr. Carson said. Ordinarily, he would have stood back to let Anna precede him, but in this matter responsibility trumped gentility. He stepped into the coal yard. She followed. The others watched.
"Best run upstairs and tell His Lordship," Mrs. Carson told Andy.
"What? And miss this?"
She glared at him. "I think it's the least you can do," she said sharply. That was her husband out there, after all.
Andy groaned and ran off. The rest stared into the yard.
Mr. Carson and Anna moved slowly across the yard, standing a few feet apart, both handling their tools nervously, a reflection of their inexpertise. Mr. Carson moved to the side of the animal, Anna approached head on. The animal stopped grubbing in the dirt, but did not show any other signs of concern. Instead, it looked at them curiously.
"Look at Anna!" Mr. Bates murmured, a little awed.
"She's a natural," Mrs. Patmore affirmed.
For Anna was holding out a carrot in one hand, the rest tucked into her coat, and had sugar cubes in the other. She did not appear in the least cowed by the animal that accentuated her diminutive stature. The reindeer swung his attention round to her and then extended his broad neck slowly in her direction.
"Easy now," Mr. Carson murmured, as he edged toward the animal, one hand with rope extended to the height of the animal's neck. "Easy."
The reindeer took a step forward to take a carrot. As it began to crunch, Anna moved just a little bit closer.
"He's beautiful," she breathed, awed.
"And he weighs about 400 pounds, so mind you be careful," Mr. Carson warned.
"He's very gentle," Anna said, as the reindeer reached for the sugar cubes.
"Flatten your hand," Mr. Carson directed her sharply. "Else he might take your fingers along with the sugar." He had come right up to the animal's side now, so close he could feel the heat emanating from the glossy neck. "Easy," he said again. He put one arm over the reindeer's neck and at the same time reached under to catch the loop he was extending. It was as if he were hugging the creature.
"He's tickling me," Anna said with a laugh, as the reindeer's soft lips snuffled over her hand and the sugar cubes disappeared. She reached for more of them.
Mr. Carson put the end of the rope through the loop and began to pull the length of it through, so as to collar the reindeer. The animal was so patient and so … mesmerizing … that he paused to stroke the fine, muscular neck. The hair was different from that of a horse, but he had to admit it, the reindeer was magnificent. Then he pulled the loop taut, firm enough that he felt confident he might be able to lead the animal.
"Now what?" Anna asked, noting Mr. Carson's success.
"Well, you keep feeding him treats and I'll secure him to the post."
They still got coal delivered by the wagonload so there were still hitching posts in the yard. It had been a long time since he had secured an animal this way, but Mr. Carson found he hadn't forgotten how to do so, though his fingers fumbled in the cold air.
"There," he said, with relief. "Now we've only got to get that Norwegian to come and collect him." He paused. "Thank you for your assistance, Anna." He spoke with sincerity. She was a little thing and yet, unlike almost all the others, had been uncowed by this great animal. "I think you can go in now."
But Anna only smiled at him. "You go ahead, Mr. Carson. You've not got your coat. I want to feed him the rest of these." She held up her carrots.
He had been absently stroking the reindeer's neck again and her words drew his attention. "Anna…."
"I'll be careful," she assured him. She didn't look at him as she spoke, but she did smile.
Not wholly without reluctance, Mr. Carson withdrew to the coal yard door.
"You looked a little like Father Christmas out there," Mrs. Carson said, drawing him in and brushing him off.
"And his elf," Thomas said with a smirk, but then his gaze was drawn back to the reindeer.
"Has anyone thought to call Bolton Abbey?" Mr. Carson demanded.
"Good idea. Mr. Barrow?"
Without protest, Barrow slipped away.
"What is Anna doing?" Mr. Bates asked, his eyes fixed on his wife and a bit of a worried look on his face.
"She's made a friend," Mr. Carson informed him.
"As usual," Mrs. Carson added with a smile.
Mr. Bates shook his head, but his expression softened.
Mrs. Carson turned to her husband. "You're a first class reindeer wrangler, Mr. Carson!"
"Ho, ho, ho," he responded drily.
Reindeer
by imnotokaywiththerunning
Downton Abbey's Christmas party was in full swing. The food was good and the drink was flowing. Lively chatter filled the air mingling with the tinny mucus coming from the gramophone. Lady Edith began making her way to the piano, signaling that it was almost time for them all to sing Christmas carols.
Carson walked over to the table that houses the gramophone to shut it off. Mrs. Hughes and Mrs. Patmore stood beside it talking, a glass of punch in each of their hands. Mrs. Hughes smiled at his approach.
"Mr. Carson!" Mrs. Patmore called. "Just the man we need!"
Carson paused in the act of turning off the gramophone and looked back at the two women with some concern. "How can I help?"
Mrs. Hughes rolled her eyes at the cook. "It's no need to worry, Mr. Carson. Mrs. Patmore has just had too much punch tonight."
"I have not!" the cook laughed, clearly having had too much punch as Mrs. Hughes had said. "We were just having a small debate about this song." She pointed to the music still coming from the gramophone. "Is it "Up on the housetop reindeer pause?" Or is it "reindeer paws"?"
Carson blinked, looking between the women with growing confusion. Neither cares to elaborate on Mrs. Patmore's bizarre statement. "What do you mean?"
They burst into laughter and Carson frowned. He turned to finish his task of turning off the song that had caused such an odd reaction and leave them to whatever game they were playing when Mrs. Hughes stopped him with a hand on his arm.
"I'm sorry, Mr. Carson. What she's trying to ask is, does the song mean that the reindeer 'pause' as in stop? Or is it implying that reindeer have paws for feet?"
"Reindeer have hooves, though," Mrs. Patmore chimed in.
"Well, of course, they have hooves!" Carson confirmed, now more confused than ever. To give himself some time to try to understand the conversation he'd been unwittingly dragged into, he finally turned off the gramophone. The music stopped and a slight hush fell over the room.
Lady Mary stepped up beside her sister by the piano, giving Carson a small nod before she addressed the gathered crowd. "Thank you all for coming. Lady Edith and I would like to invite you to join us in singing a few Christmas carols."
Lady Edith began to play and everyone joined in singing "God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen." Carson heartily sang along until he felt a hand on his arm once again. Mrs. Hughes gestured for him to follow her to the side of the room where it wasn't so loud.
"I am sorry," she began, "It was only meant to be a joke between Mrs. Patmore and I. I didn't mean for her to try to embarrass you."
"She didn't embarrass me," he smiled, trying to erase some of the worry lining Mrs. Hughes's face. "I was more confused than anything. 'Pause' and 'paws' do sound remarkably alike," he quipped.
Mrs. Hughes threw her head back in a laugh and Carson beamed. She shook her head, grinning mischievously. "So which did you decide it is? 'Pause' or 'paws'?"
"Reindeer pause," he said after some consideration. "I have to believe that whoever wrote the song was smart enough to know that reindeer have hooves instead of paws."
"I think so, too."
They turned back to the main hall where Lady Mary was beginning her rendition of "Silent Night." Carson glanced at the serene smile on Mrs. Hughes's face and his heart began to jump around in his chest much like a reindeer eager to take flight. He breathed deeply.
"Actually, I was wondering if I could have a word with you in my pantry. There's something I'd like to ask."